A/N: Ever since we saw Marcos' blood, I've been wondering what his other bodily secretions look like.
Marcos was having trouble breathing, but he knew he had to get the words out. He had to say it—right now—or it would be too late. He forced his eyes open, looked down at her… And lost his voice once again. It was impossible to focus on anything of importance when she had her mouth wrapped around him like this. She was so damn good at it, too good, and if she didn't stop soon—
"Don't swallow," he gritted out, finally finding his voice. His hands were white-knuckling either side of the mattress, and he seriously hoped he was imagining the smell of burning acrylic.
She looked up at him, mouth still full, and raised her eyebrows.
"Don't," he repeated. "I'm serious."
She lifted her mouth from him and sat up with a frown.
"What, you want to come on me? No way. That's something to be agreed upon well beforehand, and we agreed on nothing beforehand. And besides—this is my favorite bra, Marcos. You're not ruining it just because you like the spectacle."
"That's not what I meant! Jesus." He was turning a little pink underneath his stubble, and it took all of Lorna's willpower to keep the disapproving look on her face. He was really cute when he was embarrassed. She watched as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Look, all I'm saying is, I… I just don't think you should swallow it, okay?"
"It's come, Marcos. It isn't exactly ambrosia, I'll grant you that, but it is safe for mortals to consume."
"Mine… isn't really like everyone else's."
She rolled her eyes. "Like I've never heard that before."
"I'm not kidding!" he hissed angrily. "God, I'd show you, but that would defeat the—"
He broke off abruptly, getting to his feet. Lorna turned, watching in confusion as he walked to the adjoining bathroom and came back a minute later with a razor.
"Watch," he told her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He held out his forearm in front of her, and then scraped the razor against the back of it. She flinched, expecting to see blood well up. But when he pulled away the blade, the liquid that leaked out from between the perfectly aligned cuts was not blood.
Or at least, it wasn't regular red blood.
"What in the world…"
She stared at the shining liquid, nearly blinded by only the smallest drops. He set the razor on the bedside table and then pinched the skin, forcing more of the shining, golden blood to the surface.
She couldn't stop staring. It was mesmerizing, the way a fire was: she couldn't take her eyes off the light, couldn't stop watching the way it shifted and shone. She stared to reach a hand out only to pull back. She looked up at him.
"Is it going to burn me?"
He shook his head. "Might feel warmer than usual, but…"
They watched as she extended her shaking hand. She flinched a little when she made contact, but only in surprise. It didn't burn, but yes, it did feel a little warm, but that was no surprise, not with him. He always ran hot.
She held her hand in front of her eyes, rubbing the golden blood between her fingertips until eventually it disappeared, spread too thin over her skin. It left behind the lightest sheen on her fingertips, as if she'd been briefly touched by gold.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, turning to him.
He shrugged. He had grown used to the phenomenon by now. There was nothing special about blood, at least not until you lost too much of it.
"So… Is it different?" she asked quietly.
He nodded, knowing what she was hinting at.
"And you don't want me to swallow… Why? It won't burn either, will it?"
He shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just… I honestly don't know how safe it is to consume."
She stared at him. "Please do not tell me I'm the first woman to give you a blowjob."
"Ha-ha," he deadpanned. "No, you're not," he added seriously a moment later.
"And the others? How have you dealt with this problem before?"
"The same way I'm dealing with it now. I just ask them to stop."
"Every time?"
"Every time."
She reached a hand out, touching his knee. "It can't be that dangerous, Marcos. I think you're probably overreacting."
"I'd rather overreact than unintentionally hurt someone I care about."
She smiled a little, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Sweet," she whispered.
"Basic decency," he muttered, looking away.
She smiled again, and used one hand to turn his face back to hers. She kissed him on the mouth this time, and moved her free hand up his leg. He tensed when she felt him wrap her hand around him, but he didn't pull away.
"Finish," she told him in a whisper. "I want to see."
He groaned, but nodded. He let her work him with her hand for a minute, but pushed her away when it came time for the finale. Still she watched, rapt, as he worked himself through orgasm. She watched and she almost couldn't believe what she was seeing. If it hadn't been for how he'd shown her his blood before, she probably wouldn't have believed what she was seeing.
His come was glowing, shining, like a steaming strand of molten lava. It was similar in color to his blood, but a deeper, richer shade. It reminded her of honey in the sun. Maybe it was ambrosia.
"Damn." She stared. "Is it weird that this is only making me want to taste it more?"
"You're out of your mind."
"Probably. Having sex with you tends to do that to me." She was still staring down at the mattress, so she didn't see the way he grinned at the compliment. "Can… Can I touch it?" she asked after a second. Her and was in the air, but suspended. Waiting for permission.
He didn't want to give it to her. And yet… She had been able to weather so many of his mutant eccentrics so far. Maybe this one would be no different. He nodded once, quickly, hoping he wasn't make a terrible decision for her.
She reached out one finger and touched the golden mess. She poked it once, then ran her finger through it, and rubbed it between her fingers. She looked up at him with an excited smile, as if she were exploring uncharted lands. "It's the same consistency as anyone else's," she told him, and he silently thanked her. She was not the first person to tell him this, but she was the one he cared about most. If anyone could tell him he was normal—or at least something like it—he wanted it to be her.
She lifted her hand from the mattress, holding it in front of her face. He tensed, watching her examine it. He knew what she was thinking. He started to warn her off.
"Lorna—"
"Oh, it won't kill me!" she snapped. And then, before he could do anything, she stuck her tongue out and tasted it.
He felt his heart lurch, watching her. She licked her lips for a moment, everything normal, and then, as if poisoned, she suddenly seized up and fell on her side.
"Lorna!" he cried, rushing towards her. He flipped her over onto her back and then hovered dumbly, frantic and lost. He didn't know what to do. CPR wouldn't help. He had to make her vomit somehow, but how? They didn't have any ipecac at the HQ. That left only the manual option.
He had just started moving his hand towards her mouth when her eyes suddenly opened. He stared down at her and she stared up at him and then she burst out laughing.
"You're so fucking gullible!" she cackled, throwing her arms around his shoulders.
"Asshole," he snarled, throwing her arms off and shoving himself to his feet. He stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Of course it didn't shut—the door didn't fit the frame—but the resounding bang was satisfying. What was less satisfying was when she followed him into the bathroom.
"Oh, come on." She leaned against the doorframe. "You can't seriously be mad. It was a good joke! I couldn't help myself!"
"It wasn't fucking funny, Lorna!"
"Yes, it was! And enough with this paranoia," she added, planting herself in his way so he couldn't pace any more. "I'm fine. Your come isn't radioactive or cancerous or whatever it is you're so scared about."
"You don't know that," he pointed out stubbornly, and she groaned, because, of course, he was right. She didn't know and he didn't know and no one would ever know unless he submitted himself as a lab rat to one of those so-called mutant health centers. People who were desperate enough to go into those places might get their answers, but they never came out again.
"How about this," she began, taking his hand. "How about we start over?"
He eyed her warily. "Start over how?"
"Start over like this," she answered, kneeling down.
"Jesus, Lorna…" He closed his eyes, shaking his head, but she knew it was an act. She kissed his hand, and waited until he opened his eyes again before she laid out her plan.
"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," she told him. "I swear I will. But we both know I don't need to. We both know you've been protecting people from nothing, all these years. You're not as dangerous as you fear you are, Marcos."
"You don't know that," he muttered, but even he sounded less certain now.
She smiled up at him. "Take a leap, why don't you? Trust me for once."
She didn't say anything else for a long while.